


Synergize

by CGotAnAccount



Series: ADVENTure Is Out There! [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Business Trip, Casual Pining, Drunk Sex, Jeith - Freeform, M/M, Only One Bed, Rivals to Lovers, maybe rivals to fuckbuddies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:41:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21626254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CGotAnAccount/pseuds/CGotAnAccount
Summary: “You're absolutely certain there's not another room?” James leans over the counter, attempting his most charming smile on the poor harried girl typing into the computer. “Not even an extra cot we can drag in?”“I'm sorry, sir.” She shakes her head, mouth pulled tight as she scrolls through the listings. “We're entirely booked for the conference, there's not even the additional rolling mats left.”“Just leave it, Griffin.” A tired voice sighs out behind him. Its owner is barely standing from jet lag, half leaned against a chair and still hefting a considerable dufflebag. “It's not the end of the world.”“Says the one who does the punching,”
Relationships: James Griffin/Keith (Voltron)
Series: ADVENTure Is Out There! [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558660
Comments: 38
Kudos: 145





	Synergize

**Author's Note:**

  * For [benicemurphy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/benicemurphy/gifts).



> Day one of the ADVENTures!
> 
> (For the AP server exchange...Happy Murphmas!)

“You're absolutely certain there's not another room?” James leans over the counter, attempting his most charming smile on the poor harried girl typing into the computer. “Not even an extra cot we can drag in?”

“I'm sorry, sir.” She shakes her head, mouth pulled tight as she scrolls through the listings. “We're entirely booked for the conference, there's not even the additional rolling mats left.”

“Just leave it, Griffin.” A tired voice sighs out behind him. Its owner is barely standing from jet lag, half leaned against a chair and still hefting a considerable dufflebag. “It's not the end of the world.”

“Says the one who does the punching,” James mutters under his breath before thanking the girl and taking two key cards, hoping his face is slightly less of a grimace than it feels like.

“That was like twelve years ago.” Keith rolls his eyes as he shuffles to the elevator, letting the doors slip shut as his unwilling companion presses the button for the ninth floor. “Get over it.”

“I am over it,” James clips back, shouldering his own bag despite the screaming protest from his sore back. “What I'm not over is the continual inability of anything to go as planned when you're involved.”

Keith lets slip a tired snort, cracking one eye open as the floors ding upward.

“You think I did this?”

Lips purse as James cuts a look through the mirrored metallic reflection toward the spectre of bad decisions next to him.

“I certainly didn't.”

“Okay, Griffin.” The disdain drips from Keith's words now as he lets his eyes slip shut again. “You're right, I totally switched the rooms to a single because I wanted to snuggle with you. You caught me.”

“Shut up,” James snaps before he can stop himself, then sucks in a breathe and counts a long eight seconds before releasing. “I didn't say that.”

Keith shrugs, not bothering to respond as the dinging continues with each ascending floor. It's almost worse than fighting.

It's been like this for years, the awkward simmering tension between them. Since they were dumb kids who did dumb kid things until they weren't kids anymore – but by then they had already burned the bridge. Different lives, different colleges... neither of them could have expected to wind up working for the same company years later, let alone in the same department. Normally it's fine, the occasional requirement to work on something together, or the rare all hands meeting. But nothing like this – a trip to a professional summit, booked and paid for by HR with the expectation of delivering a joint presentation and representing their company as a unified front.

In other words, career suicide.

“It's just three nights,” James sighs, mostly to himself as he lets his own eyes drift shut. “Then this whole thing is over.”

“Can't wait,” Keith grunts, and it stings just a little, for no particular reason.

The door slides open, saving them from more cramped remarks that itch to slide off his tongue. James hefts his bag and strides forward instead, like he's not ready to collapse at any minute after sixteen hours in airports and more in a taxi.

Room 926 is, of course, as far as possible from the elevator. The stupid bronze numbers gleam mockingly in the dim light of the hall.

“Stuck us in the corner.” Keith grunts, to no one in particular. “Typical.”

James bites his tongue and swipes his card, pushing at the little green beep and sweeping into the room.

It quickly becomes apparent why it's in the corner.

“Is this...” The words die on his lips as he takes in the bed, covered in rose petals, and the mirrored ceiling.

Keith lets out a startled bark of laughter behind him which dissolves into little hysterical snorts as he staggers into the room and slumps into the chair by the desk.

“They gave us the fucking honeymoon suite?” His voice is about an octave and a half off of the usual, probably delirious from lack of sleep. “What kind of practical joke is this shit?”

“I don't know,” James sighs, again. He's starting to feel like sighing is the only way he's going to get oxygen for the next two days. “And I don't really give a fuck at this point, I just want to sleep.”

“Oh ho,” Keith snickers, dragging a hand across the smudges staining his eyes. “Pretty boy said 'fuck', somebody call somebody.”

“Fuck you.” James grunts, yanking his tie loose as he fishes his toothbrush from his suitcase. “And fuck them.”

“Somebody should get fucked in here,” Keith wheezes through his giggles, eyeing the petals as he continues to rub at his face. “Can't let that ceiling go to waste.”

James profoundly disagrees. He's been trying not to look at it since they walked in, and he's not about to do it now while brushing his teeth in the tiny attached bathroom.

Keith is still letting out little laughs when he pads back into the main room, not yet out of his rumpled blazer and tie.

“Are you gonna change or what?”

The snickering doesn't stop.

“Or what, Griffin, I dunno.” He swipes a hand across his face again, suddenly looking worn down far beyond his years as the laugh peters out into a shuddering sigh. “I'm so fucking tired.”

All of a sudden James is fifteen again, looking at the weird foster kid – too skinny by half with bruises under his eyes like plums – and this time he doesn't really feel like throwing barbs to appease the social food chain.

“Hey man.” He shifts on the bed, half under the covers on the far left side. “Are you... okay?”

Keith looks up at him, bereft of all fight as he slumps against the desk.

“I can do the presentation fine, Griffin.”

James hesitates, then slides out of bed and pads over.

“That's not what I asked, Keith.” He reaches out slowly, half wary of getting bit, before sliding the shoulder of Keith's jacket off. “Come on, let's get you to bed.”

Keith shakes his head, then nods.

“Okay.”

He stumbles on the way to the bathroom, leaving James to blink after him and pluck the toothbrush from his carry on pouch. He slips it into nerveless hands without Keith even seeming to notice.

“When was the last time you slept?” He asks the bloodless face next to his in the mirror. “You kinda look like hell.”

He gets a shaggy shake of hair in return, maybe half a shrug.

“I really need this job.” Keith mumbles as he smears toothpaste on his brush with a shaky hand. “I can't afford for this thing to go wrong, I had to keep going... keep practicing...”

“Keith.” James shakes his head, brows furrowed. “They're not going to fire us if we fuck this up.”

He gets another half of a shrug as Keith drags the brush across his teeth, mostly asleep on his feet, but this feels important. It feels like sudden clarity on the overtime hours Keith works, and the defensive hunch of his shoulders during meetings, or the way he folds in on himself with quiet frustration when someone takes credit for his work but doesn't fight back the way James would have bet on and-

It feels like punching down. It always has, even when he was the one getting punched in the aftermath – only now it's not either of them throwing the punches at each other anymore. It feels like being fifteen and watching the foster kid get jostled in the hallways and instead of stepping in to stop it, stepping up to make snide comments about his parents.

It feels almost as awful as Keith looks, listing to the side as he rinses out his mouth and stumbles backward.

“Easy.” James wraps an arm around Keith's shoulders and guides him down onto the bed, helping him tug off his shoes and swatting away nerveless fingers that fumble with the buttons. “Scoot up.”

Keith does, and James makes quick work of his belt and fly, refusing to blush as he tugs down the dress pants and rolls Keith into his side of the bed. He can't help but notice that, despite the impressive amount of wiry muscle, he could still probably play the xylophone on Keith's ribs. It's enough to make him bite his lip against the growing frown as he crawls into the other side of the bed, setting their alarm forward an hour from what they had planned.

He doesn't sleep well that night.

Waking in the morning is an experience, with one arm slung over the waist of a human furnace and a mouthful of hair that isn't his own.

“Whassit?” The body next to his slurs as James scrambles back as fast as humanly possible, attempting to maintain at least an ounce of dignity. “What time is it?”

“Uhh.” James clears his throat, squinting at the alarm as he turns it off. “Like, eight in the morning.”

Dark eyes squint up at him from beneath a mop of mussed hair.

“I thought you said we needed an earlier start.”

He can feel his shoulders rise as he fights to keep the scowl from twisting his face.

“Yeah, well... you looked like shit, so I changed it.”

Keith blinks at that, unsure whether to take it as the kindness intended or some sort of backhanded leveling of blame.

“Thanks?”

James shrugs it off, feeling vaguely uncomfortable with the assessing gaze on his back as he digs for his dress shirt.

“Don't mention it.”

He hurries to the shower before Keith can say anything else, or potentially remember the part where James cheerfully helped him out of his pants. Of course the thing's got two shower heads and conveniently placed handrails and seats, because why wouldn't it? He tries to keep the scrub down perfunctory to make up for the lost hour, hoping to still snag some of the continental breakfast on the way down to the attached convention center, even if a halfway decent cup of coffee is too much to ask for.

Keith is sitting on the edge of the bed when he comes out, head in his hands with his clothes and shower caddy laid out beside him. He looks up when the door opens in a whorl of steam.

“Hey uh, about last night.” He trails off with a wince, dragging a hand through his hair. James waits him out, offering only an inquisitive noise as he busies himself with putting away his dirty clothes. “I'm sorry I was a walking corpse.”

“Don't mention it.” Shrugging off the apology feels like the least he can do. “We've all been there.”

Keith cocks his head at him as he rises from the bed.

“Have we?”

But James doesn't have the words to respond to that before Keith is shutting the bathroom door, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the packets of shitty instant coffee that he tries to turn into something marginally drinkable.

He fails, but Keith downs his cup in one scalding gasp without complaint when he comes out.

They ride down the elevator in awkward silence.

Fortunately the plan doesn't require them to spend the entire day together, leaving them free to roam the halls and various exhibits set up to entice people with far more organizational influence than they have.

Unfortunately, that means James gets to spend several hours a day wondering what his counterpart is getting up to while he wanders and schmoozes with people far more 'important' but far less genuine. He'd probably kill a man for something to wipe his hands on after talking to so many slimy businessmen slipping pleasantries through their teeth while staring him down like he's prey. He can't imagine Keith is faring any better.

In a stroke of luck, they nearly collide at lunch, James distracted eyeballing a table full of fresh fruits being set up while Keith bustles through toward a pile of sandwiches.

“Oh, hey, there you are.” James smiles reflexively, grateful for a familiar face as Keith turns to raise an eyebrow at him. It's enough to remind him they're not friends, not really. “I was just ah, wondering what you've gotten up to.”

Keith shrugs, continuing over to snag two sandwiches before turning back to James with an air of boredom.

“Not much, saw some cool stuff, talked to some sharks, got a little dirt on the competition.”

“Oh?” James perks up, snagging a fruit cup and falling into step beside Keith as he jerks his head toward an alcove on the far wall. “I met the sharks, but what kind of dirt?”

Keith casts a glance over his shoulder before leaning in close.

“Word has it Galra Tech is folding pretty badly, and they've been actively sabotaging their competitor's shit around here all day.”

The words take a minute to register, as distracted as James is with the sudden proximity and the smell of Keith all in his space. When they do he jerks back, then abruptly ushers Keith farther down the hall.

“You don't think they've tampered with the files for the presentations, do you?”

Keith sucks his teeth, shrugging as he glances around behind James' shoulder.

“Wouldn't put it past em to do something shady like that... make us seem incompetent.”

James feels himself pale.

“I don't have a backup.” There's sweat starting to bead at his temples. “I sent the files in to the conference committee so they could have it running prior and didn't think to bring an extra copy...” He drags a hand through his hair with a curse. “I might be able to get the file off my email on my phone but-”

Keith cuts him off with a shake of his head.

“Don't worry about that, I have a backup.” He fishes a flash drive from his pocket and hands it to James all casual, like he didn't just potentially save them from public humiliation. “There's another one in my bag in the hotel room too.”

“Keith.” James can't help the manic glee he knows he must be projecting as he grabs the front of his coworker's lapels. “You lifesaver, I could kiss you right now.”

“Oh yeah, Griffin?” Keith huffs a laugh, cheeks tinging pink as he eases the fingers off his shirt. “Is this the fluorescent mood lighting you prefer? The honeymoon suite wasn't doing it for you?”

Not even his stupid bravado can dim James' unadulterated appreciation for this man, especially not now that he can see it for the defense mechanism it is.

“You look better mostly awake.” He grins, clapping Keith on the back and leading him away with a spring in his step. “Come on, there was a table of pastries and I know you've got a sweet tooth.”

They spend the rest of that day as a unified front, picking apart the slimy salesmen and comparing notes as they stroll back to their hotel room, full of free food and a whiskey a piece from the open bar at the mixer.

“I still think Altea's got some great innovations coming down the pipeline,” Keith insists as he swipes his card and shucks his jacket. “They would make a good candidate for a partnership with the next round of prototypes.”

James inclines his head as he loosens his tie.

“They do, but did you see how sleek the stuff from Marmora Tech was?” He lets a whistle out through his teeth and grins. “I would love to see one of those babies in action.”

Keith snorts, a sly smile creeping across his face.

“Would you believe me if I told you they aren't half as cool as they look?”

“No.” James shakes his head, whole face wrinkling in disbelief. “Absolutely not. _You_ are telling me you don't think those things are cool as hell?” He shakes his head again, almost outraged. “Absolutely not. You're drunk.”

“I swear, I'm not,” Keith sputters out a laugh at the utter indignation on his face. “My uncle is the lead engineer there, they've let me play around with half of that stuff already.” He shrugs and grins at James' gaping expression. “Don't get me wrong, they're cool but they're not like... the coolest.”

“No, wait.” James brings one hand to his face while the other flaps for Keith to sit on the bed. “You're telling me your uncle is that high up in the food chain of Marmora Tech and you're working at this soul crushing grind with me?”

Keith shrugs, popping the buttons on his cuffs and sliding off his dress shirt until he's just in a tank.

“I didn't want people to think it was nepotism, figured I should do my time.”

“ _Keith_.” James groans, dragging the hand down his face until his eyes stretch. “They treat you like shit here... anyone with two eyes and half a brain knows that you can get by on your own merit.”

Keith pauses halfway through peeling his belt apart to blink at him in surprise.

“Griffin... that might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me.”

James can feel his lips purse and his cheeks heat at that, suddenly feeling like he's sucked on a lemon.

“Yeah, well... don't get used to it, just because you're not an idiot.”

Keith grins and finishes whipping his belt through the loops to shimmy his pants off.

“If you don't quit while you're behind I'm going to think you want to be friends or something.”

“Shut. Up.” James grits out, hurrying to lose his own stifling clothing. “You're the worst.”

“Ahh, there's the Griffin I know.”

Waking up on the second morning is both more and less awkward.

On the one hand, it really can't get much worse than waking up in the same bed as someone who hates your face most of the time, even if you are snuggling them and let them sleep an extra hour. One the other hand, it might be a little bit worse when maybe you don't hate each other... and they're the one spooning you this time.

It's not even the alarm that wakes him as James gets dragged unwillingly into consciousness, it's the heat. At some point during the night he must have kicked off the blankets entirely since they're in a rumpled pile at the end of the bed, but the hard chest molded to his back is at least ten degrees hotter than a human has any business being. He can feel the sweat-damp hair stuck to his neck along with equally hot breath tickling his ear and the hint of a press from where he's currently cradled in the sway of another man's hips.

He's in literal hell.

And he's so very gay.

Deciding the only safe route is direct action, he jolts himself out of bed at top speed and nearly trips face first into the end stand, successfully dislodging the arm around him.

“Whu-?” Keith jerks awake, bleary eyed as James aims a crazed smile in his direction. “Whas goin on?”

“Nothing, had a cramp, go back to sleep.”

His voice is far too high pitched to be casual, especially this early, but Keith's lost his shirt in his sleep and those boxer briefs don't do much to hide anything, and it's too early for this kind of dilemma and-

James is _so very gay._

He takes a cold shower this time, ready a full hour earlier than they need to be just to distract himself from the man who is currently somehow once again out cold and sprawled, drooling, on their shared bed. It's not fair.

“Hey.” He pokes Keith in the side, earning a squinty crack in response. “You should probably shower, I'm gonna go get us coffee.”

Keith deigns to open both eyes at that.

“Real coffee?” He shimmies upright with a groan, still shirtless and clutching the blankets as they pool in his lap. “For both of us?”

James resists the urge to roll his eyes. Or to salivate.

“Yes real coffee, we're gonna need it for today.”

The reminder of their presentation is enough to get Keith's brain firing on all cylinders and he lets his head thunk into the red velvet headboard with a groan.

“Alright, I'm going.” He tilts his head back down with a plaintive look. “Cream and four sugars?”

“I know how you take your sludge,” James grumbles as he pulls on his shoes. “We've been working in the same break room for years.”

Keith shrugs, but nods.

“I guess you would have to know if you ever followed through on your plan to poison me.”

“Don't worry.” James throws him a wink and a shark-like grin. “I still need you until tonight.”

And then he strolls out the door, the picture of swagger and not at all the paragon of gay panic as he asks himself if he really just winked at his half naked coworker who he's sharing a bed with while making questionably innuendo laden banter.

But it's Keith, and if there's one person more socially inept than him, it's Keith. It'll be fine.

It's slightly less than fine, as he finds out when he walks into the room and nearly drops both coffee cups.

Keith has apparently gone for the GQ photoshoot look with his rolled up sleeves exposing his strong forearms and the slim cut of his trousers. The red silky shirt only completes the vision as he pauses in the finger combing of his hair to grin up at James through his lashes.

“The coffee man has returned!”

“Yeap.” James chokes out, suddenly feeling very under dressed in his own tailored suit pants and blazer – which is stupid, because this is a business function and he's perfectly businesslike. “Cream and four sugars for the pre-diabetic.”

Keith flicks him a middle finger with a smile as he accepts the cup and takes a long draw, helpfully exposing the column of his throat for public consumption.

James follows suit, suddenly parched.

“Damn that's good,” Keith gasps as he tips his cup back down, bright eyed and bushy tailed. “Thanks Griffin, I needed that.”

“You can call me James,” he blurts out like an idiot, immediately hedging with a cringe as Keith raises an eyebrow. “You know, because of the presentation. We're coworkers and they generally, uh... use first names?”

He can feel the heat bleeding into his cheeks and tries to drown himself in his coffee.

Keith's other eyebrow joins the first before a slow smile creeps across his face.

“Alright, James,” he practically purrs, like he's tasting the word as he says it. Or at least that's what James' very gay brain decides against his will as Keith strides forward to press the second flash drive into his hand. “Let's roll, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He croaks back, ready to roll over and show his belly at a moment's notice. “Let's do this.”

They do, in fact, do this. Savoring every moment of the look of impotent fury on the Galra Tech's rep as they slip their own hardware in to pull up their files. The presentation goes off without a hitch - Keith is uncharacteristically charismatic as he runs through the specs of their big reveal, making jokes here and there that set the audience firmly on their side. He throw playful looks across the stage to James, egging him on in a way he's been able to do effortlessly since they were both feral teenagers with more extra testosterone than sense. It still works, forcing him to rise to the level of this brilliant, beautiful version of his maybe-not rival. In the end they get a standing ovation and more business cards than they can reasonably fit in their pockets along with quite a few on the sly job offers.

It's a wonder that Keith doesn't take any of them right then and there with the way he's got them eating out of his palm. James can only be grateful to share the spotlight... and the conversation.

“Did you see that?” One of the Altea Corp reps titters to her coworker, fanning herself. “Talk about sparks.”

James sips his water and smirks to himself, little do they know they are absolutely not Keith's type. He almost feels bad for them as he passes by, on his way to save Keith from a conversation with a guy so enthusiastic in his hand waving that he might as well have eight arms.

“I know right?” The other lady sighs. “With chemistry like that I bet you five bucks they're sleeping together.”

James does a very professional spit take, drawing the attention of his own concerned coworker who excuses himself from the flailing man to trot over and pat James on the back.

“Okay there champ?” Keith teases as he gives him a wink and a napkin. “I hear that drinking thing can be tricky.”

“Fuck off,” James sputters, cheeks pink as he darts a look anywhere but Keith's grinning face. “Wrong pipe.”

“Ah.” Keith nods sagely, still riding high on the currents of victory as he leans in to brush some of the water off James' shirt. “Well we might be done but you still can't die on me yet.”

James can't fight the heat rising to his cheeks as he hears the women chuckle.

“Oh yeah, definitely fucking.”

“You think? Boyfriends or hate fucking?”

“Why not both?”

Keith's smile freezes on his face, almost imperceptibly, but there's no way he could know what they're talking about.

James makes a show of clearing his throat, his own smile tight.

“Anyway, now that that's over we should check out those hoverbike accelerators again.”

Keith's smile twitches as he rolls his eyes.

“If you like them that much I can always ask Koli if he can get you in to see them.”

“What?” James sputters, shaking his head. “No way, you're nuts.”

Casting a funny look back, Keith tugs him by the arm toward the exhibit floor.

“Why not?”

“Because I'm the competition, dumbass.” Keith shrugs and James can't help his jaw dropping. “You're crazy, how do you know I won't go blabbing about it to Sanda?”

Keith slows his pace to turn and raise a curious eyebrow at him.

“Would you?”

“Of course not!”

Shrugging, Keith tugs again and resumes his brisk trot to the toys.

“That's good enough for me.”

James can only shake his head with a sigh as he lets himself be tugged along.

As it turns out, they don't even need the open bar on the last night of the conference – not after Keith's friends at Marmora Tech recognize him and give him the hair ruffling and ribbing that they might to someone's kid brother.

It's strangely endearing.

It also means that neither one of them have to buy a single drink of their own the rest of the night - and that James is suddenly privy to a whole slew of college horror stories that some lanky friend named Regris gleefully regales them with as he crushes Keith to his side like a particularly grouchy cat.

“And then there was the time that Keith sent one of the prototype bikes clean over the cliff – said he was stress testing the propulsion system.” Regris shakes his head at that one and gives Keith a flick to the ear that makes James worry for the integrity of his fingers by the end of the night. “Antok grounded him from the test runs for a month until he underwent an eval by a shrink.”

Keith rolls his eyes and makes a futile attempt to squirm free, pouting across the stool at James' gobsmacked face.

“I wasn't trying to kill myself, I knew the propulsors could take it.”

“I believe it.” James nods absentmindedly, taking another sip of something fruity. “I've seen you on a bike before, if you say it can be done that's good enough for me.”

Keith flushes to his ears at the easy praise, grinning over at him as he pokes Regris in the ribs.

“Hey Reg,” he needles him again, until he's sure he has his attention. “Can you believe this guy is that kid I told you about? The one I decked in high school?”

Regris suddenly seems a lot less tipsy as he raises an eyebrow over Keith's head toward James.

“Is he now?”

“Yeah.” Keith nods, cheerfully oblivious. “Isn't it great? We're friends now I think.”

“Yeah.” James grins like a lunatic at this very large friend of Keith's that could probably eat him for dinner without the help of the other four equally large friends beside him. “Good friends!”

“Right,” Regris drawls, eyes narrowed as he gives Keith one last squeeze into his side before waving for the tab. “Well, you two friends have an early flight, you should probably head back to your hotel rooms.”

“Room,” Keith hiccups, looking over at James and giggling. “They fucked up and gave us one.”

James can't help but giggle along with him, suddenly aware that it's about the funniest thing in the world that they of all people would get stuck with this.

“And they only gave us one bed,” he wheezes, reaching out to smack Keith on the arm. “And this prick steals covers.”

Regris' eyebrows shoot up as he looks down at his friend, now full on cackling as he nods along.

“That doesn't seem like something your job should be booking.”

Keith shrugs, still grinning as he ruins his own life.

“To be honest, I bet Pidge did it cause she's a little shit and she knows I think Griffin's hot.”

Later, James will be proud of himself that his mouth doesn't skip a beat, entirely bereft of input from his brain.

“Ooh, she would.” He smacks a hand to his forehead, nodding along. “The honeymoon suite too... of course it was that terror.”

Internally, he's fairly certain all of the synapses meant to connect to his auditory senses have failed him, because Keith most certainly didn't call him hot.

“Right?” Keith wipes away tears of laughter as he eases himself from Regris' side, turning to clasp his forearm in some weird bro-hug. “Anyway, it was good to see you Reg. Tell uncle Koli and all them I say hi.”

Regris can only shake his head and watch his old friend and his very gay coworker stumble off.

“Well, at least he can't get pregnant.”

Unfortunately, the most difficult part of their day ends up being the navigation of a hotel lobby and nine flights of stairs after Keith insists that they had skipped leg day too many days in a row.

“But I don't even go to the gym.” James gasps somewhere around floor seven, ready to be put out of his misery. “I haven't done anything but run in months.”

“Well, that's sad,” Keith drawls as he sways his way up the next flight of stairs. “I was really hoping you'd have more stamina than that.”

The way he glances back down with that stupid little smirk tells James it's bait. He knows it is. He could just... ignore it. For once in his life.

“I have puh-lenty of stamina,” he grunts instead, heaving himself up the next flight with more speed than he really ought to be using in his current state. “More stamina than I'd need to outlast you.”

Keith's eyes glint as he sizes him up, like a cat ready to pounce on some unsuspecting rodent.

“Wanna bet?”

“Sure.” Puffed up with bravado and liquor, James might not know what he's betting, but he knows he likes that look in Keith's eyes. “I could take you anytime.”

“Oh Griffin.” Keith licks his lips as he steps backward onto the landing of the ninth floor, pulling James back with him with a wild smirk. “I sure hope you're right.”

Then he's tugging James forward, or James is tugging him backward, it's hard to tell when their mouths meet in the middle all hot and slick, tasting like whiskey and sugar.

He gets a fistful of Keith's hair, hands on autopilot living out every repressed fantasy as he tugs, licking into Keith's mouth when he gasps and grinds forward.

The stinging retaliatory bite to his bottom lip is so worth it, now he'll have that sensory memory ingrained in his head every time he gets a hand on his dick for the rest of his life. It only gets better as Keith tugs, drawing a moan from his throat and drinking it down as he backs James against the wall next to their door.

“You are so fucking hot.” Keith growls into his mouth, hands working down the buttons of James' dress shirt. “I've thought about shutting you up like this for years.”

The whine that escapes him is both embarrassing and entirely involuntary, prompting James to yank his key card out of his pocket and wrench the door open.

“Inside,” he gasps against Keith's mouth, fumbling with his belt buckle as he walks them backward. “Take this off.”

Keith nips at his lip again with a wicked grin but obliges, peeling the belt apart before tossing it to the side.

“Inside where?” He lets his hands slip deep into back pockets and squeezes, winking as they grind together. “The room or you?”

“Fuck, Keith...” James chokes out, almost dizzy with arousal and the lingering buzz as he jams his hands up under Keith's shirt to trace out his abs. “I wanna suck you off, please.”

Then it's Keith's turn to let out a wheeze as he walks them back to the bed and kicks out of his pants, nearly tripping in his haste.

“Yeah, god... anything you want.”

“Just this,” James groans as he sinks to his knees, hands planted on either side of Keith's muscled thighs while he mouths over the head of his cock through the fabric. “I've wanted this in my mouth all day.” He pulls back enough to nuzzle his cheek against Keith's bulge, hooking his finger in the waistband of his underwear as he looks up at him through his lashes. “Couldn't stop thinking about how heavy you'd be on my tongue after feeling you this morning.”

“Fuck,” Keith groans, lifting his hips to let James shimmy the fabric down before tangling one hand in his hair. “God, I thought that was a dream, your tight little ass pressed against me all night.”

“You dream about that before?”

It's not a fair question since he immediately sucks the head of Keith's cock into his mouth, licking up the slit and moaning like he's on the receiving end as Keith promptly loses speech capabilities. Tongue tracing the vein, he bobs slowly, savoring the sensation of having a thick cock drooling into his mouth while hands curl through his hair. James knows he looks good when he pulls back, lips shiny with spit as he smears the tip across them and lets his eyes flutter shut.

“You taste so good.”

He's not expecting the hands that tug him up before he can even take that treasure deep in his throat like he wants to.

“I'm not gonna last very long if you keep that up,” Keith grunts out, cheeks blazing as he pulls him into a messy kiss. “These gotta go.”

He tugs on James' boxers like they'd personally wronged him, manhandling them off and pulling him into his lap.

“That's fine,” James gasps out, settling spread across Keith's hips. “Do we have any uh... supplies?”

Keith's eyebrows nearly raise into his hairline and he drops his head to laugh into the expanse of naked collarbone. “I wasn't exactly expecting to have any fun this trip.” He rolls his hips up and slides them together where they're both hard and dripping. “But I bet we can make do.”

James gasps, nodding in agreement as he reaches down to wrap a fist around them both.

“Improvising is good too.”

“Oh, baby,” Keith purrs, leaning to suck a mark onto his neck. “Talk nerdy to me.”

“ _Nng_ \- innovation... collaboration... masturbation - _fuck you_ ,” James chokes as Keith plants a hand on his back and starts rolling his hips in earnest. He twists his wrist on the upstroke a little more, swiping his thumb over the head of Keith's cock until they're both panting and swearing. “God, you're such a prick.”

“You're such a fucking goody two shoes,” Keith growls back, nipping the skin of his collarbone hard enough to bruise. “I just wanna bend you over a fucking table and make you sing... mess up that perfect hair of yours.”

“Do it.” Eyes pinched shut, James throws his head back, rolling his hips as he drags one of Keith's hands back to his ass. “Unless you're all talk.”

Keith's eyes go dark as he pulls the hand back to slick it with precome before curling around to tease a finger at James' entrance.

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?” He presses just the pad in, gut shivering at the way he can feel him clench. “You take anything I give you... you'd probably let me eat you out right on my desk.” The moan that rips out of James' throat sparks a fire in Keith's gut and he grins, nearly feral. “You _love_ that, don't you? God, I could see you now, you'd be so fucking hot spread out like that... can't decide if I'd fuck you till you can't walk or eat your ass until you're crying loud enough for someone to come check on us.”

He presses in to the third knuckle and bites down on James' earlobe, and that's all it takes.

“Oh god, oh fuck-”

Spots dance in his vision and James starts to shake apart, spilling between them with a hiccuping moan as he spasms around the finger inside him.

“Fuck, _Keith-_ ”

The image alone would have been enough to send Keith hurtling over the edge with him, but the blunt fingernails that dig into Keith's back and those thighs that clamp around him like they're trying to hold him in are just the icing on that cake. It has him jerking up into James' fist and gasping curses into the sweat-damp skin of his neck as he shudders out his own end.

It doesn't take long for the mess between them to grow uncomfortably cool and sticky, and Keith pulls away, grimacing between them.

“That's... gross.”

James can't help but laugh, breathless and feeling a bit silly.

“You just talked about eating my ass until I cry in the middle of the office, and you think a little bit of jizz is gross?” He laughs even harder as Keith's cheeks flare and he tries to dislodge him from his lap. “Don't be shy now, Keith. You still have to spoon me.”

“Shut up, Griffin,” Keith grumbles as he peels him off gently and shifts him to the side. “I still hate you.”

“Uh huh.” James grins as he lets himself flop backward. “That's why you're gonna turn on both of those fantastic shower heads and carry me in there right?”

He lays there smiling up at his own satiated face reflecting back in the mirrored ceiling, secure in the newfound knowledge that his coworker is a softie – and the sudden realization that the honeymoon suite probably has something slippery hidden away somewhere...

The sound of both taps turning on only makes his grin grow.


End file.
